Star Fox: First Contact
by TonnyT
Summary: 8BLW, stationed on the outer fringe of the Cornerian system. Corneria is at peace, all is quiet. An alien encounter changes the fate of Corneria forever.
1. Chapter 1

/ACCESSING….

/LOGIN AUTHENTICATED….

/FACIAL RECOGNITION…. CONFIRMED/

/RETINAL RECOGNITION…. CONFIRMED/

/IDENTITY CONFIRMED…. ACCESS GRANTED/

/Corneria Defensive Force Priority Transmission 00312A-74/

/Classified: Omicron Seven clearance or above/

/Encryption Code: 9218-Black/

/Public Key: N/A/

/Accessing file…./

/START FILE/

Mission Report: August 23, 8 BLW 1146 hours

Captain Carter Whittaker, commanding officer: CSS Spirit of Valor

Valiant Class Frigate, Crew Complement: 452

"Captain's report August 23rd, we're currently on patrol on the far edge of the Lylat system. The _Valor_ is in month five of it's six month tour with Admiral Stanforth's fifth fleet. It'll be good to be rotated back to patrolling the inner system. After six months in deep space the crew could use some planet side R&R. Even the scorching jungles of Fortuna sound good right now.

To be candid, I don't see why the brass felt the need to send a fleet to the middle of nowhere. Corneria has been at peace for decades, piracy is at an all time low and yet the CDF feels the need to show the flag on the outer fringe. Nevertheless we stand ready as always, the _Valor_ is at full combat readiness, should something actually happen. Not that anything does. End captain's report."

Captain Whittaker tapped the button on his terminal to end the recording. He got up from his desk to stare out the window of his cabin, only to be greeted by empty space midst his reflection. Distant unnamed stars dotted the black and barren landscape, he couldn't quite get used to the view of deep space. The stars were so much different than stars back on Corneria. He shifted his bright blue eyes to focus on his counterpart in the window. His irises still held the same passion for adventure and devotion to courage as the day he signed up for military service, he was still young and full of ambition. The white, black and gold of his pristine naval uniform accented his bright silver fur. The wolf was one of the youngest and most capable captains in the CDF, he had pushed himself hard to get his command.

Corneria was in an era of peace, the fleet wasn't a priority. This lead to a lack of new ships and equipment. The fact that someone so young was offered a commission was nothing short of astounding. Three years ago he earned his command, the CSS _Spirit of Valor_ , since then his ship had become home and his crew had become family. The long period of peace also meant that qualified naval personnel were at a premium. Recruitment rates were at an all time low, nobody volunteered for service and those that did serve had never seen actual combat. Whittaker knew how important it was for a crew to be prepared, alert and ready. He scheduled unannounced daily drills to keep them on their toes and always encouraged them to constantly improve.

Deciding to stretch his legs, he emerged from his cabin and stepped onto the bridge. The bridge of the _Valor_ was a two tier polished silver room. Computer screens and terminals lined the walls with naval personnel performing various routine operations at their assigned duty stations. A massive, curved window afforded a panoramic view of the stars.

"Captain on the bridge," announced a young canine ensign.

Hearing the announcement, a black and white furred husky stood up from the captain's chair, Commander Michael Scott, his executive officer. Mike was older than the Captain, which was uncommon in the CDF, but he never showed any signs that it bothered him. In fact, Whittaker believed very little bothered the easy going husky. His XO. exuded charisma and friendliness, creating an atmosphere of trust and loyalty. At first their different command styles clashed, but over time the wolf had come to respect his dedication and dependability. Their command styles now complemented each other creating a balance between seriousness and joviality. Whittaker hated to admit it but the crew probably wouldn't have tolerated his daily drills if it wasn't for his XO.

The husky turned to address his CO. "Captain."

"Commander Scott" his voice laced with an amused sarcasm, he knew Mike wasn't a stickler for formally as he was. Calling him by rank always got under his fur. The husky rolled his eyes in response.

"What's our status?" he asked.

"Communications green. Monitoring fleet traffic, no new orders. Thrusters at station keeping. All stations manned and ready, now we just need to know what we're ready for."

"Protecting Lylat from asteroids and space dust, Mike." Whittaker said with a grin. "I'll relieve you at 1800."

"Aye captain."

Whittaker left the bridge and made his way to the wardroom, where the senior officers ate. Thoughts of genuine steak drifted into his mind, after the first few months in deep space fresh food supplies ran out. He was tired of eating synthesized protein. Cornerian scientists claimed synthesized food were chemically the same and just as nutritious. However if you asked any naval personnel they would tell you it wasn't the same as the genuine article.

Arriving at the wardroom, Whittaker found Master Chief Petty Officer Grace Miles waiting for him. The tan vixen stood by the food synthesizer with a coffee mug in one paw, she gave him a quick salute with her free paw when he stepped in.

"Master Chief, don't you usually eat in the ship's mess?" Her rank bridged the gap between the enlisted sailors and the senior officers. Technically speaking she wasn't an officer, however she was the highest ranked enlisted sailor. It was her job to advise and execute policies concerning morale, discipline and training.

"Already ate captain." she replied, "I'd like a word."

Whittaker pointed to a chair as he grabbed lunch from the synthesizer. "Have a seat Chief." The wolf sat down opposite from her with a tray of pasta. "What's on your mind?" he asked, raising his fork to take a bite.

"I'm concerned about ship's morale Carter" the vixen's face softened after the last word left her mouth.

Whittaker instantly put his fork down, over the past three years he developed a close relationship with his Master Chief. Unlike the relationship between himself and Mike, that was a purely a working relationship, a partnership necessary for the ship to function. And while Whittaker considered his XO. a friend, the relationship between himself and his Master Chief was more blurred. From the very start the pair worked well together, he was closer to her than anyone else on the ship. She became his closest confidant and friend. Whittaker couldn't deny that he felt a certain allure to the vixen, however it was against regulation for an officer to be involved with a subordinate. There were times when he wished he wasn't her CO, and he suspected that she felt the same way. But as a captain he couldn't afford to lose his objectivity, he had long since buried those feelings. Hearing his first name was a sign that Grace wanted to drop all the formalities and cut straight to the heart of the matter, it usually meant bad news.

"How bad?" he asked.

"The crew is apprehensive and fatigued. A lot of them have never been on a deep space assignment before" She said. He respected her judgement, by design she was closer to the crew than he was. Being captain meant he had to distance himself to an extent. However this was a military crew, his crew. He believed in them, that they were up to any challenge.

"We all trained for this at the Academy" he replied.

"Trained for it, yes. But actually being out here is different. The crew hasn't seen or spoken to their families in five months."

The wolf's impassive expression melted slightly. Having no family made certain parts of his life easier. Without any long term commitments he was able to rapidly climb the ranks to his commission. But it came with a price, he was alone, and while he understood the importance of family, he could only infer what it was like to be so far removed from them, to miss them.

"What do you suggest?" he asked.

"Maybe it's time to cut back," she replied, "shorten the ship's watch, shutdown nonessential stations, give the crew a little more down time."

Whittaker fought back a look of consternation as he thought about what she proposed. Cut back? This wasn't a pleasure cruise. The men and women on his ship all made the commitment, took the same oath. To defend and serve Corneria. This went against all his conceptions, however five months in deep space could change how a man viewed his convictions. Besides, didn't he just joke about the lack of activity with Mike? "We can't afford to get lax, we have to remain vigilant" he said, attempting to convince himself more than her.

He felt tired all of a sudden, as if the past five months of service instantly caught up with him. He broke eye contact with the vixen as he lowered his head, staring into the plate of pasta in front of him. The silence of the room was broken by the sound of a chair scraping the floor. A paw came to rest on his cheek and gently guided his gaze back to the tan vixen now kneeling beside him. Their faces were inches apart, her gentle brown eyes cast a caring glance.

"Carter." She began in a soft tone. "We've run a constant vigil for five months. Nothing has happened. Nothing is going to happen. Corneria is at peace."

Peace. The word reverberated in mind. He had spent the majority of his life in the Cornerian Navy. His convictions firmly grounded in courage, honor, commitment, and dedication to service. It was either fate or bad luck that had bound him into a service that was deemed unnecessary, a job without a purpose; he was a military man without a war to fight. He had attempted to throw his discontent away by adhering to strict protocols and regulations, convincing himself that something was going to change, and therefore he wouldn't have wasted his life in a dispensable career.

But Corneria was at peace, that wasn't going to change, which meant something else had to. He stared back into the vixen's brown iris' filled with care and concern. The feelings he buried long ago threatening to resurface. For the first time he considered resigning his commission to create a different life with the vixen that acted as his emotional anchor. Grace was the only individual who was close enough, who cared enough to see the internal war Whittaker fought everyday. Corneria might have been at peace, but he wasn't.

Food had suddenly become the last concern on his mind, he stood up from his chair causing Grace to take a step back. "I'll think about it" he said briskly and abruptly left the wardroom leaving his lunch and the tan vixen behind. She watched as the door closed behind her captain, then looked to the plate of pasta he left behind on the table. "Carter, what are you so afraid of?" She whispered.

Whittaker made his way through the corridors, naval personnel in various uniforms stepped out of the way and gave him a quick salute as he passed by. He returned the salutes, keeping a strong facade, the crew needed to see a strong leader, not a liability. The wolf had taken off without a destination in mind, he had simply wanted to get away from the one he cared about most.

He had never been this uncertain before, a dangerous trait for any leader. His professionalism cautioned him that letting the vixen get close was a terrible mistake. He was becoming vulnerable, losing his objectivity. A separate part of him wanted to throw all his caution to the wind, resign his commission begin a new life with Grace. Was it worth losing everything he had worked for? To throw his career away for a slim chance at a normal life? Would that life even be happier? After all this time in the military could he even adapt to civilian life? If this was what it was like to care for another individual he wasn't sure he afford it.

Throwing his personal concerns to the side for the moment, Whittaker decided the best course of best would be to immerse himself in work. He would reevaluate the situation once the tour was over, right now his ship needed him. He headed towards the ship's Combat Information Center.

* * *

As the ship's TAO, lieutenant Elizabeth Robins spend most of her time in CIC. The dark room was filled with monitors, terminals, and status displays. She placed both of her paws on the edge of the central holographic table and leaned against it, attempting to fight off the boredom of monotony. Her feline eyes darted around the room, cats thankfully had exceptional night vision. Her staff were sitting at their assigned posts, roughly half of them kept their attention on their screens the other half sat idle keeping one eye on their monitors while letting the other wander. Under normal circumstances she would have clamped down on the breach in protocol, but even she was starting to feel the strain of deep space. Lizzy had always considered herself a fighter, it was one of the reasons she volunteered for service. Growing up she had always been a Tomboy, getting into fights and scraps with other kids.

Eventually her eyes came to rest on the table in front of her. Her brown paws rested against the cold metal that accented the edge of table display. The built-in holographic projector depicted the surrounding space, most of it empty with the exception of a nearby asteroid field. The only noteworthy features were the small holographic representations of allied ships at nearby picket stations. Five ships floated in a neat formation, the _Westward_ , the _Challenger_ , the _Spirit of Valor_ , the _Dauntless_ and the _Royal_. As the lead ship of the formation the _Valor_ sat in the center. The five ships were far enough away that visual contact could not be made, but close enough to communicate and create a sensor net. The rest of the fleet was beyond sensor range. Besides the ships of the fifth fleet, there were no other ships, no merchant, transport or civilian vessels of any kind. She let out a long sigh, being on the outer edge sucked. "Not even a stray electron" she muttered.

The door to CIC opened, allowing outside light into enter the dark room. Robins looked over her shoulder to see who entered. Upon spotting the captain she immediately stood up straight and announced his presence to the CIC staff.

"Captain's in combat."

Upon hearing the announcement the CIC staff immediately snapped to, sitting up straight and turning their full attentions to their stations. Lizzy gave the arctic wolf a crisp salute. "Captain" she addressed him. Whittaker gave himself a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dark room, before walking over to the central briefing table.  
"At ease lieutenant, I'm off duty" Robins visibly relaxed. "Aye sir."  
Whittaker walked over to join the feline at the table. His eyes immediately fixated on the holographic representation of his ship, his home. Whittaker enjoyed the versatility his ship gave him, being a frigate meant his ship straddled the line between the smaller destroyers and corvettes and the larger cruisers and carriers. In his eyes the _Spirit of Valor_ was the best ship in the fleet, she had speed and maneuverability without compromising firepower. Right now the _Valor_ was assigned to picket station eight, which meant she was acting as part of an early warning screen, protecting the larger capital ships. Station eight was a designated command post, he was responsible for the other ships in his formation.

He crossed the room, taking the opportunity to look around, noting how each member of the staff looked, carefully scrutinizing their appearance and moods. His presence in the room was a reminder of authority and protocol, undoubtedly his crew were working to hide the fatigue that had set in these past five months, but it was impossible to completely hide the effects to a practiced observer. At first glance the CIC staff were holding a vigilant watch, they sat up straight, their uniforms were cleanly, and they had their eyes fixed on each of their stations. Upon closer inspection subtle hints betrayed their fatigue. Paws moved lethargically, with all the deliberation of a sleepwalker. Others members of the staff had half glazed eyes and unkempt fur. Perhaps Grace was right, his crew needed some R&R, sooner rather than later.

Whittaker turned his attention to his TAO. The brown and white spotted cat stood at parade rest across the holotable. She was a stark contrast to the rest of the crew in the room. He had personally chosen lieutenant Robins straight out of the academy for her discipline, attention to detail, and tactical mind. Her uniform was freshly pressed and her brown hair was cut to perfect regulation length. She was short, nimbly athletic, she rarely cracked a smile and was always business, he knew she was a warrior.

After slowly pacing the room he joined Robins on the other side of the central table. Remembering what Grace had mentioned earlier about the apprehension on board, he lower his voice to a whisper he asked "Robins, how's the temperature of the room?"  
"Considering our circumstances sir, I'd call it a low simmer" she replied.

"Do you believe I should shorten the watch?" he asked, attempting to divine more information from his officers. He firmly believed that a good leader always listened and respected the judgement of his subordinates.  
Her ear twitched, "Sir, as TAO I have to advise you that shortening the watch is tactically unsound-" Whittaker held back a smile, after three years he knew Robins too well and predicted her exact response. He was also relieved to hear that he wasn't the only officer concerned about maintaining ship and fleet security. However right now, the well being of his crew took priority.

"That's not what I asked you, lieutenant" he cut her off.  
The Feline took a long glance around the room at her staff. The staff that she worked and trained besides for three years. She would never abandon her post, but she had a responsibility to those under her command. She took a breath before replying. "I believe it would help the crew's morale, sir."

* * *

A/N: With a new year comes a new story. I know originally said I wanted the first chapter out before 2019 dawned, although I decided to postpone by a few weeks. First Contact will mainly an action piece, inspired by various media including: The Last Ship, Star Trek, and Halo. My goal for this story is to make bi-monthly updates, the first and third Mondays of each month. A special shoutout goes my friend WolfyBits, who is responsible for creating the cover art. Go check out his art and renders on his deviant art page, (WolfyBits). As usual, If you're interested in the rest of my current projects you can find descriptions of them on my profile's bio. Any reviews are appreciated, and thank you for taking the time to read!

* * *

Star Fox and associated characters © copyright Nintendo Co., Ltd.


	2. Chapter 2

/START FILE/

Mission Report: August 25, 8 BLW 1935 hours

Captain Carter Whittaker, commanding officer: CSS Spirit of Valor

Valiant Class Frigate, Crew Complement: 452

"Captain's report August 25th, on the advice of my senior officers I have decided to cancel all remaining drills for the remainder of this tour, as well as shorting the ship's watch and cutting back on nonessential duty stations. It should come as no secret that I have a more formal command style than most other captains in the fleet; that said, after five months in deep space I believe the crew appreciates the extra time off.

CDF policies are very lenient on how a captain chooses to command their ship. While I often ask my crew to make great sacrifices, it is only with the knowledge of their great potential. The _Spirit of Valor_ 's crew have served with honor and distinction fitting of the ship's namesake. I could not ask for a better crew. End captain's report."

* * *

Grace placed her foot on a outcropping, testing if it could support her full weight. Luckily it held, she straightened her leg using the added leverage to haul herself further up the cliff side. A cool breeze crossed the face of the cliff, ruffling through her fur and making her blonde ponytail sway. She took a moment to enjoy the wind, providing a brief respite from the rays of Lylat beating down on the rockface. From her position on the cliff she could see the entire valley below and the gleaming skyscrapers of Corneria City in the distance.

She reached out with a paw to grab another outcropping. After applying a fraction of her weight it gave away, nearly threatening to unbalance her precarious position. The vixen swore under her breath as she struggled to regain her footing.

"Isn't there a rule about not rock climbing alone?" A male voice with a jovial tone interrupted her recreation. Grace looked down the cliff face to see Commander Scott in full uniform below her. "Commander!" she shouted down. "I believe there's also a rule about entering other people's private simulations."

The husky smiled. "Privileges of being the executive officer."

Grace repelled down the cliffside using her safety harness, meeting the husky on the forest floor. "Something I can do for you XO?"

"I was just coming off duty," he replied. "I wanted to thank you for convincing the captain to give the crew some time off."

"Just doing my job, sir," she said with a smile as she pointed towards the rockface. "Besides, the crew aren't the only ones taking advantage of the extra time off."

"So I gather," Michael chuckled mirthfully. "I'm heading to the Galley for a drink, care to join me?"

"I'd be delighted. Let me head back to my quarters to shower and change," she gestured to her T-shirt and shorts lightly coated in sweat from her exertion. "Meet you there in twenty minutes?"

He nodded, "Sounds good."

He turned to face to the exit as she followed behind. As the door to the simulation room opened Grace terminated her rock climbing program. The natural landscape of cliffs and forests pixelated and dissolved revealing a large dull gray room, its walls lined with holographic projectors at steady intervals.

The Galley was a nickname given to the ship's hub of social activity. Located on the starboard side of the ship's recreational deck, it served as the ship's mess hall as well as a bar, lounge, and bistro for all off duty personnel. Large floor to ceiling windows dominated one wall, presenting a canvas of black void lit by distant stars. The wall opposite the windows was lined with food synthesizers, small lines forming behind each one. Crew members and officers both in and out of uniform sat at various tables enjoying food and drinks, chatting away the evening.

Normally the Galley wasn't this crowded, but the majority of the ship's complement had taken the captain's offer for extra time off. Michael walked over to the synthesizer, getting in line. He engaged a young ensign in small talk before reaching the front and ordered himself a light ale. The husky found an empty secluded table and sat down. Being the executive officer meant he had the option of taking his meals in the wardroom, but he preferred the friendly, warm atmosphere of the Galley and socializing with the crew.

After a minutes of nursing his drink, Grace —now back in uniform— stepped into the Galley. He flagged her down after she ordered a drink from the synthesizer. Setting her drink down, she sat down across from Mike.

"What'd you order?" The husky asked curiously.

"Cider, although the synthesizers can never get it quite right," she replied.

"Tell me about it, I'd give my tail for a good ale." He stared into his glass, scrutinizing the golden liquid, the drink being the last thing on his mind.

Recently his thoughts drifted more and more towards home. His modest two bedroom studio in central Corneria, currently occupied by his wife and four year old son. The last time he saw the pup in person he had just turned two years old. He thought about how he lost the chance to watch his son grow up, how he had left his wife to raise the child alone. He had sacrificed a lot for his military career, perhaps too much. After the _Valor_ finished this tour he planned to apply for reassignment to some desk job on Corneria, maybe at the academy. He felt torn between the love for his family and having to leave the ship he called home for three years. This crew was his second family, he made an oath to them, how could he just leave them? How was he going to break this news to the captain? Three years of serving with Whittaker had made them friends, but he was such a private and reserved man there was no telling how he might react to the news.

Grace raised an eyebrow and gave him half a grin, "Staring at it isn't going to make it taste better."

"No I suppose not," he said before raising the glass to his muzzle to take another sip. "How's the captain doing?"  
She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to share. "This tour has been hard on everyone, including the captain."

Michael let out an uncharacteristic sigh that threw her off. The friendly, charismatic husky she had come to know disappeared. She was accustomed to the crewmembers bringing their problems to her, she was practically the unofficial ship's counselor, however she couldn't remember anytime their executive officer sought her guidance, nor could she recall him ever looking so disturbed. Whatever it was he would share it in his own time. It wasn't like she could give orders to the XO anyway.

"The ale is that bad, huh?" she attempted to lighten the mood, bringing her own glass to her muzzle.

"I'm putting in for reassignment when we get back to Corneria," he said in a quiet voice.

The vixen nearly choked on her cider, eliciting a few glances from nearby personnel. She waved off their concern with a gesture of her paw. After the shock wore off and the nearby patrons resumed their conversations, she lowered her voice so she wouldn't be overheard. "You're leaving the ship?"

He nodded once, his eyes firmly locked on the glass in his paw. He couldn't find his voice, to confirm with certainty that he was in fact leaving. The conflict in his eyes was evident. She knew their XO was one of the few members on board that had left a spouse behind. These past few months had taken its toll on everyone, more so for those who left family and loved ones behind. "Your family?" she asked.

He nodded again, before responding with the same quiet voice. "My son needs a father."

Grace knew that the loss of their executive officer would severely impact the crew. Part of her wanted to convince him to stay, not just because the ship needed him but because Michael was also a friend, but she had no right to keep him or anyone from their family. Nobody had that right. "Have you told the captain?" she asked.

He finally shifted his gaze from the ale in his paw to her. "You're the only one who knows," he said as he hesitated for a moment. "How do you think he'll take it?"

She paused to contemplate her response. One of the most important relationships on a vessel was the dynamic between the CO and the XO. Changing that dynamic would be a enormous disruption. Michael's joviality and friendliness had acted as a counterbalance to the captain's strict adherence to military protocol. Given Whittaker's recent disposition, that counterbalance was needed now more than ever, but the vixen had no desire to add to the growing conflict that he must have been going through. It was better to help guide him through the decision rather than try to convince him of which action to take. "You've been his faithful right hand for three years, losing you will be difficult, but the _Valor_ will go on and so will the captain."

The husky shook his head, "Don't do that."

"Do what?" She asked confused.

"Grace, I'm here as a friend, not your superior officer. We both know that you're the one who he's developed a personal connection with rather than a professional one. You've developed a rapport with him. He listens to you."  
"He listens to you too, Mike. He trusts you," the vixen insisted.  
He scoffed lightly, "He trusts me to execute orders and he trusts my judgement in tactical situations."  
"You're selling yourself short. Carter trusts you with his ship, and this ship is his life."  
Mike held the same look of defeat. " Like you said, I've been at his side for three years. I can't just walk out on him."

She reached out with her paw and gently grasped the husky's forearm. "Michael, no one has the right to keep you away from your son, not even the captain."

"Maybe. . . maybe it'll be easier if I don't tell him. Not until we get back to Corneria."

She shook her head. "Carter deserves to know. You should tell him, sooner rather than later." No sooner than the husky opened his mouth to respond was he interrupted by the ship's P.A. system. "Commander Scott report to CIC, Commander Scott to CIC."

* * *

Elizabeth glanced around CIC. Roughly half the duty stations were empty as most of her staff accepted the captain's invitation for time off. But not Lizzy though, she had declined the offer for extra downtime. Her duty was here in this room, it didn't feel right to lounge around when there was work to do.

The remaining staff in the room sat at vital defensive and communications stations, each person taking on added responsibilities now that only half were present. The feline was no exception. She kept her eyes on the holographic table while her ears monitored the fleet traffic.

Suddenly one of the small holographic ships winked out of existence. She blinked to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. The dot was still missing.

"Smith," she addressed of the crewmembers sitting at a nearby communications terminal. "Confirm that picket ten stopped squawking."

"Confirmed ma'am, all transmissions from the _Royal_ flatlined at 2124."

By Lylatian law, a ship's transponder had to be online at all times in order organize space lanes and prevent collisions. In rare occasions military ships would turn them off to run dark, but primarily outlaws and pirates would switch them off. Something had to be wrong, "Is there a problem on our end?" She asked, looking for any explanation.

"No ma'am, comms report all systems green." The technician replied.

With comms eliminated as the issue, Lizzy decided to focus efforts on acquiring a picture of what was going on. "Lidar, do you have anything?"  
"Negative ma'am, the _Royal_ is gone."  
"What do you mean gone?"

"I mean there's nothing there ma'am, no movement, no debris. The ship simply disappeared from the scope."

Lizzy immediately activated the direct comm line to the bridge. "Bridge, this is CIC. get me the captain."

* * *

Captain Whittaker rushed his way through the corridors to CIC. Naval personnel in various uniforms and fatigues stepped out of the way and gave him a quick salute as he passed by. He stepped in CIC as the doors automatically shut behind him. "Lieutenant, this had better be good," he said walking over to her position.

Lieutenant Robins brought the captain up to speed from her position at the briefing table. "Sir, picket station ten went dark at 2124 hours. Lidar has confirmed the _Royal_ is missing from her post."

Whittaker frowned, picket ten was the closest to the asteroid field. The station was given to the _CSS Royal_ , a Gladius-class corvette captained by commander Abigail Rixx, a retriever who had been repeatedly promoted due to a desperate need to fill fleet vacancies and demoted for borderline insubordination. She frequently acted outside the chain of command and on her own accord. It if wasn't for the need for more personnel, Whittaker suspected she would have been discharged from service entirely. Given Rixx's service record he decided further investigation was warranted.

"Have we tried hailing them?" He asked.

"Yes, sir. No reply."

"When was their last check in?"

"At 2100, they reported all systems green."

With the exception of the small stealth ships used by Cornerian Naval Intelligence, the Gladius was the smallest warship in the Cornerian Navy. Barely armed and sporting a crew of less than a hundred, they were designed for mine sweeping and fighter screening.

Whittaker took a position next to the briefing table and stared into the holographic representation of the surrounding space. The now empty picket station was void of any debris or asteroids. An entire ship's complement didn't simply disappear. "Hail the _Dauntless_ get me a direct line to Commander Alba, and get Commander Scott down here."

The _Dauntless_ , captained by Commander Tyta Alba was the next ship in formation and the closest to the _Royal_ 's last position. Alba was a middle aged brown owl with a reputation for caution and level headedness. Her Resolute-class destroyer was better equipped and armored to deal with whatever unknowns they were facing. Whittaker considered himself fortunate to have her assigned to his flotilla.

"Aye, Sir." Lieutenant Robins left her place at the table and began to relay his orders. After a few seconds she called out. "Captain, I have Commander Alba on channel five-one."

The arctic wolf tapped a control on the table and the image of Commander Alba appeared on the display. She was sitting on the bridge of her ship as uniformed officers milled around in the background. "Commander Alba, have you been apprised of the situation?"

The owl glanced to the side, "Affirmative captain, we've lost all signals from the _Royal_ as well."

"Commander, I want you to take the _Dauntless_ to get visual confirmation of the _Royal_ , then report back."

The owl looked hesitant; she appeared to have reservations about his orders. "Speak your mind commander," he added with limited patience.

"Sir, if the Dauntless leaves her position, that will leave a gap in the sensor net, not to mention that we would be out of position to assist the fleet."

"Which is why I'm only ordering you to make a visual confirmation and then report back. I'm not ordering you to take their station. And I'll remind you that with the Royal's disappearance we already have a hole in the sensor net not to mention a ship full of Cornerian sailors missing, commander."

The owl furrowed her brow. "Aye, sir." The channel closed and her image disappeared.

The door to CIC opened, once more letting light enter the dark room. Commander Scott stepped inside. His usual easy going personality missing from the expression on his face. "What's the word captain?"

"The _Royal_ 's disappeared. I'm trying to get confirmation on the ship's status."

The husky's face darkened further. "Isn't that Rixx's ship?"

Whittaker nodded in acknowledgement.

"What do you think she's up to?" The XO asked, "should we alert the Admiral?"

"Not yet, I want to make sure it's not a technical glitch. Some stray asteroid might have damaged their communications array, or it could be solar flare activity." As soon as he said the words Whittaker knew how improbable it sounded. A ship was built with redundancies to make sure communications didn't fail spontaneously. Not to mention the _Royal_ wasn't showing up on lidar but there could be explanations for that as well. Whittaker needed to be certain it wasn't natural interference. If he decided to expend fleet resources and it turned out to be nothing he would be be ridiculed for 'crying wolf'. God, he hated that expression.

"Aye, sir," Commander Scott replied.

The next half hour passed with apprehension. It would take approximately 40 minutes for the Dauntless to get visual confirmation of the _Royal_. Commander Scott had returned to the bridge, and Whittaker stayed in CIC glaring at the tiny holographic _Dauntless_ move slowly towards the last known position of the _Royal_. Despite his caution he had reservations; any natural interference should have passed long ago. He was tempted to scramble his crew to their stations, however without more information it would be premature He couldn't act on a hunch.

As the holograph ship approached the edge of the asteroid field, it too vanished. A nearby technician called out, "Contact with _Dauntless_ lost."

Whittaker immediately acted, barking out orders. "Hail the _Dauntless_ repeatedly. Don't don't stop until you get a reply."

"Aye, sir," a technician replied.

"Where was the Dauntless' last known position in relation to the last known position of the _Royal_?"

Robins spoke up from her station, "About three thousand kilometers, sir."

Whittaker frowned, three thousand kilometers was well within visual range; Commander Alba should have reported back. He had lost contact with two ships under his command now, this was not any natural interference.

"Hail the fleet, priority channel to Admiral Stanforth."

* * *

A/N: Another chapter signed and delivered! I'll be honest I'm not entirely satisfied with some of the dialogue and narrative in that chapter. It took me a while write it the way I wanted to portray it, which is why it's a little late. Sorry! Expect the next chapter on February 5th. As usual if you're interested in any of my current projects you can find them on my profile. Any and all reviews are appreciated, they help me improve as a writer. Thank you for taking the time to read!


	3. Glossary

Glossary

CDF - Corneria Defense Force

In the lore of this narrative I am using the CDF as the main military body of Corneria. As this story takes place before the Lylat wars and the militarization of Corneria.

CIC - Combat Information Center

The tactical center of a warship providing processed information for command and control of the near battlespace or 'area of operations'. Each CIC organizes and processes information into a form more convenient and usable by the commander in authority.

C.O. - Commanding Officer

The commanding officer is the officer in command of a military unit. The commanding officer has ultimate authority over the unit, and is usually given wide latitude to run the unit as they see fit, within the bounds of military law.

R&R - Rest and Relaxation

TAO - Tactical Action Officer

A tactical action officer is responsible for the weapons, sensors and propulsion of a ship or group of ships. They interpret and evaluate presentations and tactical situations and make recommendations to the commanding officer.

The Watch - Watch system

A watch system is a method of assigning regular periods of work duty aboard ships. A watch system allows the ship's crew to operate the ship 24 hours a day for the duration of long voyages or operations.

X.O. - Executive Officer

An executive officer is the second-in-command, reporting to the commanding officer. The XO is typically responsible for the management of day-to-day activities, freeing the commander to concentrate on strategy and planning the unit's next move.


End file.
